Court Date
by Yanagi-wa
Summary: Abby and HR have different ideas of what constitutes court appropriate wear. JAG agrees with HR. Abby has to have a court appropriate suit.


Court Date.

Abby and HR have a Hate/hate relationship all because Abby hates their idea of what she should wear to court.

.

Abby hurried into the bullpen in full cry. "AJ! Gibbs! Have you seen this ... this ... monstrosity? Seriously? What the actual fuck? Whose idea is this abomination?" She waved a cloth around, then tossed it onto Gibbs' desk with a disdainful scowl.

Gibbs picked it up by pinching a fold between finger and thumb. "Um ... it's a skirt?" He wasn't too sure; it didn't look like anything he'd seen before.

"It's a peplum ... double peplum even ... abomination. And there's a swallow tail jacket to go with it. But the damn thing looks more like a bustle. Good grief. No. Just no and oh hell not a chance and fuck that shit." Abby was ready to keep going, she'd built up a full head of steam.

Tony blinked at the garment still pinched between Gibbs left thumb and forefinger. "Um ... Abby? Who do I shoot? That's ... that's ... holy ..." He turned to Remy. "Remy, find me a flame-thrower."

Remy was also eyeing the skirt with a very jaundiced eye. "Non, Mon Dieu, c'est horrible. Kill it now, before it spreads."

Tim scowled at the thing too. "I'm just glad Dean, Cos, Jimmy, and Ducky aren't here. Ducky would stroke out. The others would laugh their heads off."

Abby demanded, "Well, where are they?" She waved the jacket still clutched in her left hand.

Tim shrugged. "Dean, Cos, and Jimmy are taking care of household duties. Ducky is playing bridge. Finals of his club tournament."

Remy took the coward's way out, hopping off the edge of Tim's desk and exclaiming, "And I'm supposed to be on house duties too. Bye." With that, he trotted to the elevator and managed to get on and close the door before anyone could call him back. He'd deny he ran to his last breath.

Gibbs sighed, "Coward."

Tony chuckled. "He's just afraid Abby will make him take her shopping."

They all flinched when they heard the chirpy voice of the new HR liaison with JAG. "There you are Miss Sciuto. Have you tried on your new suit yet? I made it myself. How does it fit? I can have it tailored in a jiffy, if it doesn't fit quite right. I do pride myself on being good at sizing."

Abby just went, "Ha!" as everyone took in the sight of the rather chubby woman wearing a suit just like the one she'd sent to Abby. Only it was chartreuse, and she was wearing lemon yellow fuck-me shoes, earrings, and had painted her toenails pink.

Gibbs blinked once, tossed the skirt back to Abby, then announced, "I'm going to talk to Leon. Abby!" He held up one finger in a cautioning gesture. "No!"

Abby pouted, "Rats."

Tony eyed the liaison, mumbled, "Damnit. Rita Skeeter clone? Holy. Just no." He glared then demanded, "What the hell is your name?"

"Language. It's Tammy Fay Charlton." She tugged at her jacket, then asked, "And what did Mr. Gibbs mean when he told Miss Sciuto 'no'?"

Abby shrugged negligently. "I can kill you, dispose of the body, and leave no forensic evidence behind. He just meant that, even though I can, I shouldn't."

Tony just glowered at Tammy. "And for your fucking information, fuckin' tellin' me fuckin' 'language' is more fuckin' likely to make me say 'fuck' every fuckin' time I fuckin' can than fuckin' not. So, fuck you very fuckin' much."

Abby shrugged. "Bad, very bad." She turned to Tammy, who was looking smug as she thought Abby was talking to Tony. "Tellin' AJ not to swear is sure to make him worse. He's a grown-ass man; if you don't like his fuckin' language ... fuck off."

Tammy managed to give them both sad looks. Abby just stiffened and snorted. "Giving me sad-face won't work. Now ... about this ... this ... suit. Not only no! But oh, hell no. Not a chance. Nu-uh. Nope. Nopity-nope-nope and ... are you deranged?"

Tammy scowled, "As the liaison between JAG and NCIS, I've been informed that your usual garb is not acceptable court wear. You'll wear a suit that is approved by..."

Leon interrupted. "Me. Dr. Scuito, I'm well aware that you won't wear polyester, so go buy a suit that you will. It must be either black, grey, or dark navy blue. No skulls, cross-bones, spiders, webs, or other Halloween-associated motifs. Your shirt or blouse, the same. I'd prefer a more feminine appearance, as it is more what a jury expects, but that's up to you. Just ... no excessive lace or ruffles. So ..." He got a good look at the skirt that Abby was holding out to him. "What the ever-lovin' fuck is that?"

"My suit." Abby held the jacket in the other hand. "Just like hers. And might I just say, Fuck this shit."

Leon turned to Gibbs. "So ... that screaming fit you just threw is actually justified?"

"Ya think?" Gibbs took the skirt and jacket, handed them to Vance, and said, "Mr. Director, if you think I'm gonna insult Abby's intelligence by trying to get her to wear that ... thing. Think again.

Leon accepted the suit with a grimace and turned to leave, but stopped to add, "And get some plain shoes too."

Abby shrugged. "Don't like my combat boots?" After her experience being stranded in the woods, Abby had added flat hiking or combat boots to her wardrobe and cut the height of everything else to no more than two-inch heels and one-inch soles.

"They're nice, but I don't think they'll go with any appropriate suit." Leon dropped the suit into the big waste can by the stairs and went up to his office to call HR and rip someone a new one. He hated having HR interfere in his agents' activities.

Mz. Charlton sighed. "I do love that suit. What's wrong with it?"

Abby frowned, "One, it's way to ruffly. A ruffle at the hem, a ruffle with the wide part right over my butt, a ruffle instead of a lapel on the jacket and a damn peplum over my butt. And might I add, two ruffles at the waist? As well as the fact that I'm five foot ten flat-footed? I look like ... like a giraffe in drag. No. Just no." She shook her head then finished, "And I can't wear polyester, it does actually make me break out in heat rash. Finding a suit that's not lined with polyester is a nightmare. So ... We ..." She gestured to Gibbs, Tony and Tim. "will decide on something suitable, then I'll try to find it."

Tammy sniffed, said, "Well, I never," then stomped off in a huff.

Abby sighed, "The problem is ... you did." She turned to Gibbs and grumbled, "Now I have to find something nice in a blizzard of polyester and ... crap."

Now, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a brave man, Medal of Honor brave, but he was also no one's fool. He made a discrete, successful, run for the hills. "I have a certification class to teach. Sorry." He immediately called the firing range and volunteered to teach any class they needed for the next three days.

Tim just got up and walked out. "Head." He kept going right down to Cyber Crimes and chewed the fat with a couple of the men until he was sure it was safe.

Tony eyed Abby then sighed. "Vance ... you asshole ... you owe me big time."

Abby bounced a bit, "Yay! Shoppin' time. And why that face? You took me shopping before."

"Yeah. At a military surplus store. Big difference between that and some pink and froo-froo twinkly store with giggly clerks."

Abby chuckled. "And so?" She grabbed Tony by one arm and dragged him toward the elevator.

Tony just moaned and followed, he knew better than to argue with Abby when she was in a hyper mood like this.

Abby chattered all the way down to the garage. Tony tuned her out, as he was well aware that it was just speculation as to what she really wanted in a suit.

He got into his Hummer, absolutely refusing to ride in Abby's hot rod. It was a beautiful car, but he was tall, and the hot rod wasn't tall-friendly. He really didn't like having his knees in his ears.

Abby just laughed at him. "If we don't get done before close of day, they'll lock the gates, and I won't be able to get my car." Abby wasn't that worried about it; security made sure that nothing happened to anyone's car, with a few glitches here and there.

"If it looks like we're going over, I'll have one of the guys pick it up for you." Tony opened the door for Abby and gave her a hand up into the Hummer.

"Why is this thing so tall?" Abby fidgeted, getting comfortable.

"Four-wheel, all-wheel drive. High clearance for rough terrain. A lot of revamped Hummers are lowered. I didn't see the need, as all of us are stupid tall."

Abby laughed at that. "You are. I'm tall, five ten, over six feet in some of my shoes. But you're all so ... broad."

Tony snickered, then said, "Are you callin' me fat?"

"Oh, hell, no. Just ... even as big as this boat is ... how do you get all those shoulders in?" Abby was twisting in her seat, looking around the passenger compartment.

"Count the seats. I've got seating for all of us, but the middle seats are a bit crowded, so we draw for who sits where. That way there's no whining." Tony eased down the ramp into the parking lot. The change from the dark of the garage to the bright light of the lot was amazing; and dangerous. "Okay. Where first?"

Abby, who'd been thinking about this since HR had sent her an email, said, "I've got two or three places I'd like to go. I've got an idea what I want, but I'm not sure where to get it."

"Ok, tell me your idea. Maybe I can figure out where to find it."

So Abby told Tony what she had in mind, finishing, "And none of those damn fuck-me, open-toed, spiky-heeled ... things. I know I wear extreme heels and platforms, but the heels are all chunky. Spiky heels are just asking for a broken something."

Tony allowed a quarter-ton pickup to dodge him, plowing through traffic like the tank his Hummer was. "Okay. How about a man-tailored pinstripe?"

"Um ... maybe?" Abby scrunched her face up. "Just ... I don't want to look like ... well, like I'm trying to be a man... only ... I like man-tailored, but ..."

Tony nodded. "Think Annie Hall, not man-hater. I was thinking a dull wool/linen blend with pinstripes."

"Ok. But not blue navy blue. I look horrible in it; makes me all yellow. It has to be black navy." Abby squeaked as someone cut them off.

Tony snarled, "Dim-witted, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, inbred fuck-wad."

Abby sighed, "Damn, AJ, attitude."

Tony shrugged, tapped the brakes so he wouldn't hit a taxi in the ass, then said, "Well, it's the only one I got."

Abby flinched again as a slow-moving, older Dodge cut in front of them, then proceeded to cut off the next lane over as well. "Shit. What is it with people today? Is it the full moon?"

Tony snorted. "Yeah. But some of them are just stupid." It was well known in certain circles, no matter what the science types said, that the full moon brought out the crazies.

Abby cringed as Tony pulled into the parking lot. Tony eyed her for a moment, then asked, "What now?"

"Nothing, really. I just realized that I'm gonna have to try on stuff ... and be measured. I hate it."

"It's not that bad." Tony shrugged.

"Last time you were measured for whites." Abby's flat tone made her opinion of being measured clear.

Tony sighed. "Okay, okay. Point." Tony's whining and bitching when he had to be measured was epic, and loud.

Abby pulled the door of the shop open, greeted by the merry jingle of a spring bell. "Oh, cute." Abby grimaced. "Sweet."

Tony poked her in the ribs. "Abby. Be nice." His near snicker made Abby sniff her disapproval.

The second they stepped in the door, they were greeted by a grim-faced, older woman who eyed Abby for a moment, then announced, "Are you sure this is the right store?"

Tony was ready to take offense on Abby's behalf, but Abby just patted his hand then replied, "No, I'm not. I need a suit to wear to court. All-natural materials, including the lining. No polyester at all, gives me a rash. Black or dark navy blue. Pinstripe of some kind, and bespoke. I'm tired of paying two or three hundred dollars for a suit that has to be re-tailored so much it might as well have been bespoke, then turns out to have a poly lining. So ... what have you got?" Abby frowned for a moment then added, "And what the hell is your name?"

"My name is Miss Pince. And I don't need any Harry Potter jokes, please." She frowned at Tony, who had opened his mouth to make some joke or other.

Instead, he held up his hands, palm out, and offered, "Okay. Heard all of 'em. Sorry."

She eyed him for a moment, then said, "This way." She took them into a side room, pointed to a loveseat, and said, "Sit down; I'll be right back with the swatch and style books. I have an idea of exactly what you want."

Abby sighed, "Me too; just don't think I'll get it."

Tony frowned at some of the manikins standing around. "I see a few things that might work? Maybe?"

"No. I see a pair of trousers that I like. But no jackets. They're all too froo-froo. I'm a damn scientist, not some featherheaded personal assistant in a power suit." Abby scowled at the most acceptable, to her, suit. It had a shawl collar and nipped-in waistline; the frill of lace on the cuff made her snort.

Tony nodded. "I know. I wear a Sears suit and I'm a schmo. I show up in Armani and they assume I'm stupid. I show up in whites and all of a sudden I'm the font of all knowledge."

Abby agreed. "But, you wear black, and you look like death on legs. Very ... yummy."

Tony cradled his forehead in one hand. "Abby ... SEALs aren't yummy."

"You so are." Abby wriggled a bit. "I hate chairs like this."

Tony shifted a bit then said, "The upholstery is too slick. I'd like to get my hands on whoever invented vinyl and do them severe bodily injury. Stuff is a nightmare."

Miss Pince returned with her arms full of huge books. Tony jumped to help her bring them to a podium.

She thumped her burden down on the side table next to the podium. "There. Put that one on the podium please." she managed an apologetic expression as she said, "I am sorry about the chairs. I know they're uncomfortable and I've complained ... customers have complained. The owner is sure that they're just fine."

Tony offered. "Ask him ... or her ... to come in and sit in one for twenty minutes. They'll either replace them or they're brain-dead."

"That's an excellent idea. I'll do exactly that." Miss Pince nodded once. " Very well. Here's the style book. Come take a look. It's divided into trousers, skirts, and jackets. The first appendix is blouses and shirts." She took a slow look at Abby. "As you're so tall. Five ten or so?" Abby blinked then nodded. "Trousers. A pencil skirt ... or both. A nice jacket with a slight nip in the waist. Button-down shirt. None of that fluffy, floppy bow thing. We want to look professional. A pinstripe in a lighter color than the body of material. No pink, blue, or lilac. Perhaps a nice dark navy blue with a lighter shade for the stripe. Or, with your coloring, charcoal grey with a light grey stripe. So." She stepped back to allow Abby to look.

Tony settled into the uncomfortable chair and put his feet on the coffee table. Miss Pince glared then sniffed; Tony ignored her.

Abby picked out a jacket with a lapel that emphasized her bust without being over the line. She also picked trousers with a cuff and an A-line skirt that came to the middle of her knee. She agreed that her blouse could be off the rack. Then it was off to be measured.

Tony ignored all of this and actually managed to fall asleep. Although it wasn't that odd, as he could fall asleep leaning against a rock.

.

Abby, finally done with all the arrangements, patted Tony on the foot. "I'm done."

Tony grumbled, sat up, and replied, "Good. I'm starved. Food. Now."

"Well, gee whiz." Abby grinned. "I did say I'd take you to lunch. So ... come on."

Tony looked puzzled as he asked, "When did you do that?"

"While we were going to the garage. You weren't listening to me, were you?" Abby gave him a squinty-eyed look.

"No, actually, I wasn't. You were just thinking out loud."

Abby poked him in the ribs, exclaiming, "Jerk!"

Tony replied intelligently, "Not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Are!"

"Not!" Abby realized what he'd done and bopped him gently on the shoulder. "You so are. You tricked me."

Tony just opened the door of the Hummer and offered her his hand. When she gave it to him for him to help her up, he kissed it with a flourish. Abby couldn't help but beam at him.

"Where are we eating lunch?" Tony started the Hummer with a roar; the V-8 turbo 6.5L was not a quiet power plant.

Abby shrugged. "I don't care; just not some high-class snobby place."

"Ok. Roger that. What are you in the mood for?"

As Tony maneuvered the huge vehicle into traffic, Abby nibbled at her lip. She was tired and not in the mood for stuffy waiters and hosts; all she wanted was good food and quiet.

"Someplace quiet. That's a must. I really am not in the mood for screaming, crying kids; or stuffy servers. So ... any idea?"

Tony maneuvered between two city buses and turned into a side street. "There's a couple of blocks of restaurants about half a mile down this way. Make up your mind before we get there, okay?"

"Okay. So ... not Thai, too hot ..." At Tony's incredulous glance she said, "I know ... I should but it's not the right kind of heat. And I'm not that fond of lemongrass. Fish 'n' chips? No. Um ... Italian? I had that last night. Besides, restaurant isn't as good as yours. Definitely not Cajun. So ... New Age ... that's so yesterday. Chinese? Possibly ... or Japanese?"

Tony brightened. "Chinese or Japanese. Keep an eye out. I'll cruise slow."

Abby watched the store fronts as Tony cruised slowly down the street. She saw a Chinese place but frowned. "Don't like the look of that one, it looks ... unkempt? Ill-kept? You know."

Tony slowed even more and eyed the window. "Yeah. Just not sure which word applies best. Not eating there." He ignored the honks of irate followers with casual scorn.

Abby scowled a bit then asked, "AJ, you think you should speed up a bit?"

"Why? Limit is 10 mph." Tony glanced at the speedometer, he was going the limit.

"Oh. Well, why is everyone and his dog honking at you?" Abby craned her neck, trying to see what the problem was.

"Because they're impatient jackasses. If it was an emergency, I didn't have to worry about someone stepping out from between two parked vehicles, or some other really good reason, I'd be burnin' up the road. You know that. But ... son of a bitch!" Tony slammed on the brakes to avoid a woman who just walked out into the street from between a pickup and a van. "See?" He rolled down his window and yelled, "Lady, If you're suicidal, jump off a damn bridge!" She gave him a wide-eyed look and scurried to the other side of the street.

Abby scolded him, saying, "AJ, that was mean."

"A lot less mean than getting run over." He put the Hummer— actually it was technically a High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV), decommissioned, but no one was that nit-picky. "Take a look there."

Abby squinted at the store front Tony had pointed at. "Um ... Japanese." Tony slowed down again. "Looks nice. The front walk was just washed. Park somewhere. If we don't like it, we can walk down the street and just look in windows 'til we find something we like. Ok?"

"Sounds good to me." Tony nodded to a parking lot at the end of the block. "That looks okay." He signaled, then turned into the lot. The attendant took one look at the huge vehicle and just pointed to a spot. Tony eyed it for a moment then ran the window down. "Sir, this thing won't make that turn. I'll wipe out three or four cars."

The attendant rubbed the back of his neck then pointed to a different spot. "How's that one? If you pull in as far as you can then back up, you'll fit."

"Yeah. Then you park someone in that spot and I can't get out."

"No. Rules state that we're not allowed to park anyone in. Last time someone did that, they got fired on the spot." He grinned then pointed. "The owner lives there so he's watching most of the time. Wanna try?"

Tony agreed to try but warned, "Okay. But, if I come back and I'm parked in, there'll be hell to pay."

"No prob. And don't leave the keys. I'm not about to be responsible for that ... that ... hundred-thousand-plus war machine."

Tony just parked, pocketed the keys, and offered Abby a hand down.

She dimpled at him, but didn't say anything.

They wandered slowly down the block to the place they'd seen and entered. The shop was small and definitely nice. It was also a traditional Japanese restaurant.

They were greeted at the door by a bowing, smiling older woman. "Good day. Please. Have a seat." She gestured gracefully to a table for two. "I will bring tea and menus in a moment." The woman walked off, waraji scuffing softly.

Tony held Abby's chair with a smile. "Looks nice. Smells ok."

Abby nodded. "Smells like the sea. Nice. I love incense, but not in a restaurant ... you should be able to smell the food, not Dragon's Blood."

Tony agreed, saying, "Yeah. Or too-hot oil. That'll send me off in a second. Um ..." Tony moved his hands out of the server's way. "Sorry."

"No problem. Menu. Tea. Sugar?" The tone of voice implied there'd better not be a need for sugar.

Abby smelled her tea then shook her head. "No sugar, thank you. I only add sugar if it's overbrewed or brewed with too-hot water."

This got her a bow and a gentle smile. "So glad. Would you like to order now?"

Tony, who had been reading the menu written on the blackboard over the back service area, said, "Catch of the day?"

"Tako, Toro, that's fatty tuna, gently steamed Ebi, grilled Unagi, served chirashi-zushi style. The bowls are all made in Japan by a family friend."

Abby shook her head. "Sorry. I really don't like octopus. Is there some sort of just sashimi plate?"

"Yes, we have a delicious tuna three ways. That's fatty tuna, lightly seared Ahi, and Katsuo. There's also a California Roll. It comes with three dipping sauces and grated diakon radish. You can add one other fish for five dollars."

Abby thought for a moment then said, "I'll have that and add salmon. Please don't sear the Ahi too much."

This remark caused Ichiko to smile. "I'll be sure to tell the kitchen to take it easy. Sir?"

Tony went with the Catch of the Day.

Abby watched as Ichiko walked back to the kitchen. "I'd think you'd like sashimi, AJ."

Tony shrugged. "The octopus is cooked because it's too rubbery to eat raw. The shrimp is steamed just enough to set it. The fatty tuna is raw, so is the skipjack. I can't wait to see how they arrange it all."

They waited patiently, visiting about this and that. Abby was of the opinion that Vance was just too tight to update some of her machines, while Tony knew that Vance was working with a rather limited budget when it came to Abby's lab. He finally objected, "Abs, some of those machines are really expensive. That MasSpec you want costs over a hundred thousand dollars. That's a lot of money for NCIS."

Abby pouted a bit. "But it comes with free shipping and setup."

Tony just rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Don't care ... way expensive."

Abby nodded but advised, "I know. But do you want cheap or reliable? It's not a tradeoff I'm willing to make."

Tony agreed, "I agree. But tell that to the bean-counters in Accounting and Budget."

Abby just sighed sadly, shaking her head. She didn't get how Budgetary couldn't understand the importance of up-to-date machinery in criminal investigations. It didn't make sense. She gave up on that train of thought and turned her attention to her soup.

"Miso with ... mushrooms? Mmm." Abby poked at the contents of the bowl, stirring in the chopped green onion.

Tony nodded. "Yeah." He took a sip. "Really good. Not made from a paste."

As soon as they finished their soup, Ichiko was back with their main dish. She placed a bowl in front of Tony and a platter in front of Abby.

Abby peeked into Tony's bowl and had to smile. The chef had arranged it into concentric rings, which made it look like a flower. Her platter was a bit plainer, with the different types of fish arranged in stacked rows with flowers made of wasabi, radish, or Gari, and each type of fish was on a wax-paper leaf.

Abby exclaimed, "It's so pretty! I almost hate to touch it." She flashed Ichiko a smile. "Almost."

Ichiko bowed, said, "Enjoy." and walked off.

Tony used a fork to pick out a shrimp. "Mmmm. Just right. So good." He tried a bit of Tako. "Oh, yeah."

Abby snickered. "Sounds like you're ..."

Tony interrupted her. "Do. Not. Say. It." Abby snickered again. "You are evil."

"I know. Awful. But ..."

"Eat."

So they ate, sharing bits of this or that, visiting about the goings-on of coworkers and some of Abby's friends. Tony was of the opinion that one of her male friends was beginning to be somewhat of a stalker.

Abby agreed, "He is. I came home at midnight Thursday, and he was sitting on the stoop, waiting for me. He claimed that he couldn't sleep and was just out there, but he jumped up to open the drive-in gate for me the second I came around the corner. It's not like I don't have a remote. He's kinda beginning to creep me out."

Tony stabbed a bit of tako rather viciously. "You want me to have a talk with him?"

"Wouldn't hurt. He doesn't even live in my building ... he lives at least ten blocks away, and he has to walk. Lost his license six months ago ... DUI. And not liquor. I don't know..." Abby poked at her food with her chopsticks. "Why the hell do I attract every nutjob on the damn planet?"

"Abby ... you have a heart of gold and ... well, not that much common sense sometimes. They smell blood in the water and swarm. I'm going to start vetting your friends. Seriously."

Abby nodded her agreement as she ate the last slice of seared Ahi. "I think you should. I meet soo many ... odd people at clubs, you ... well, you would believe it. And I do have a soft spot for a sob story. Maybe you should ... talk to Roger. He's making me more nervous the more I think about it."

"Ok. I'll go ... and take Jet with me, send me his address. Brick- and-mortar, not e." Tony chuckled at that. He'd asked her for the address of a mutual acquaintance, and she'd sent him the email.

"Right." Abby giggled, then sighed. "All gone. It was soooo good. Yum."

Tony placed his fork on the chopstick rest and eyed the bowl; only a few grains of rice were left. "It was. So. Now what?"

"Back to NCIS. I have some tests running, and the results should be up in about twenty minutes. That's one of the main reasons I want new machines: besides the better accuracy, they're faster. So. Pay the lady, and let's get out of here."

Tony signaled for the check, gave Ichiko his credit card, and followed her to the register. "You could have stayed seated."

"I know. But there's no sense in you taking extra steps when we're headed out the door anyway." He took the receipt, added a tip then signed. "Here you go. Abby?"

"Right beside you. Mush." Abby took Tony's arm and they headed out.

When they got back to the parking lot, the Humvee was still right where Tony parked it, but it was surrounded by a bunch of young men. They didn't seem to be doing much more than peeking in the windows and admiring the paint job. Tony cleared his throat, making all of them jump.

One young man stepped forward, hands in the traditional 'I mean no harm.' gesture. "Hey. Easy. We're just lookin'. No harm, no foul. Right?"

Tony nodded. "Ok. What's up?"

"We just wanted to look. This thing is ... a beast. Are those really the original gun mounts?"

Abby eyed the bunch for a second then said, "You people have names? I can't keep thinking of you as 'him', and 'him 2' and '3' and so on."

Introductions were made all around. The group was made up of two John's, a Mark, a Fred, a George, and three Jose's. Tony just smiled at all of them, then introduced himself. "LtCmdr Agent Anthony Jethro DiNozzo, Navy and NCIS. This is Abby Sciuto, Forensic Specialist. So, why the interest in my ride?"

George, who had been elected as spokesman, mostly by being shoved to the front, explained, "Well, we're from the local Lincoln Tech Automotive ... division? Whatever, and this is a fine example of what can be done with decommissioned military vehicles. We were just ... snooping."

This led to a ten-minute question-and-answer session that left Abby giggling and Tony feeling decidedly wrung out. Abby finally took pity on him and announced, "AJ, we have to leave now, my tests are going to be done in fifteen minutes or less, and I should be there." She turned to the young men and said, "Sorry, guys, we really do have to leave."

The group stepped away with a few soft grumbles, and Tony helped Abby in. He walked around to the driver's seat, got in, and started to back up. Abby waved cheerfully and got reply waves. Tony eased into the street and drove off.

.

Abby picked up her suit, but refused to show it to anyone except Director Vance. He approved; everyone else could wait.

Three weeks passed. Abby continued to refuse to show or describe her suit, only saying, "I want it to be a surprise. You have to go to court on the same cases I do. Just be patient."

Tony grumbled sourly, "Hate going to court. Buch a' jackwads tryin' to make me look stupid. I swear, I'm gonna start wearing uniform to court. Boss?"

Gibbs just shrugged, "I looked it up. It's a bit of a gray area. It's not Military Court, you're not supposed to. But no one is gonna say a thing if we do. So ... I'd say, depends on the trial."

Tim interjected, "I've got that Armani ... the grey suit?" Everyone nodded or made some sort of sound. "I always wear that. It's comfortable, distinguished, and makes me look corporate instead of geeky."

Leon Vance overheard the conversation and decided on the fly. "I overheard that. If you're comfortable wearing uniform, do so. If anyone objects, pass it on to me."

Vance was just about to leave when a voice from behind him said, "I'm looking for ... DiNozzo, Gibbs, Sciuto, McGee, and Palmer. Can you tell me where to find them?"

Everyone jumped a bit; no one was supposed to be in the squad room who didn't work for NCIS, without an escort. Someone was in a bunch of trouble.

Vance turned and barked, "Who the hell are you? How did you get in here without an escort?"

The man shrugged. "I know a guy. I'm here to serve the people I mentioned." He waved a handful of documents nearly in Vance's face. "And who are you?"

"I'm Director Leon Vance. I'll have your name and the name of whoever let you in without an escort."

"Um ... oh ... My name is Matt Levinson. My friend is Corporal Evan Sloan. It's okay."

Tony loomed behind him and barked, "No! It is not! You're not supposed to even serve agents. All summonses are to be given to Legal. All."

Matt turned to see several very pissed men glowering at him in a way that made him glad he'd visited the Gentlemen's Room before he came up. "But ... but ... if I can't prove I served you, I don't get paid. Lots of guys have lost their commissions because they just left the summonses at the gate."

Vance made a note to himself to check on that. These men and women did a job and deserved to be paid for it, no matter how annoying they were. He held out his hand for the papers. "From now on you'll get some sort of confirmation of receipt ... on the spot."

Matt gave Vance the papers and was pleased to get a handwritten receipt from Gibbs for them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Remy moved up beside him and said, "Come on. I'll take you back down."

He meeped, looked up at Remy, then nodded. "Okay. Um ... bye."

Vance handed the papers to Tim. "Legal, please."

Tim took the summonses and ambled off with them.

Vance grimaced; he was going to have to send out a memo. He hated doing that, as it meant a breakdown in the system instead of one or two people doing the wrong things. In this case, it was a combination of the two. One, someone got into the squad room without escort, had access to the whole building. Two, the reason he'd done that was, people were being cheated out of pay because of NCIS regs. He had to figure out how to stop that. And the summonses themselves were an aggravation.

Some lawyers were just plain dicks. All they would have had to do was contact legal and the individual agents with a time and date, but some officious prick felt that he had to wave his dick around and play big fish. Others sent a summons so that it was on record that the people in question had been notified of their court date. He wandered up to his office, trying to formulate some sort of fix for this mess.

.

Tim just handed the papers to the receptionist in Legal with a simple comment. "Take care of this mess for me, will you? I'll owe you."

Lilian smiled at him. "Sure, Agent McGee, but ... why do you have this mess?"

"Some dumbass let a process server onto the Yard, and into the squad room. Vance was not best pleased. He's in a snit. And the rest of us aren't that happy. I don't even see the need for all this paper, a damn fax or email is good enough."

"I know." Lilian sighed. "It's always the new, hot young things that send in a server. The old guard just send a calendar. We combine them on a spreadsheet and send out emails so you know where you're supposed to be, when." While she was talking, she also unfolded all the documents, then slapped them into a fairly neat pile. "I'll add these to the sheet and make sure there aren't any conflicts. Thanks."

Tim nodded. "You're welcome." He left, wondering if he couldn't do something; then realized that it wasn't his job. He shrugged to himself and went to find snacks.

.

Abby eyed the email from Legal. "Well, three cases come to trial in one week. Not too shabby." She made a note on the whiteboard calendar she had on the wall. "There. And AJ, Jet, and Tim are required for all three. Sweet."

She settled at her desk to review her notes on the cases in question. She would review them again the night before the trial.

She just hoped the lawyers weren't too dickish. She hated it when they called her 'Ms.'

.

Tony tugged at his tie, making sure that it was straight. He always tied a Double Windsor; many men did a Half Windsor, but their ties were always crooked: one side had a wrap that was longer than the other, so when you centered the ends the tie was crooked. With a Double Windsor, both sides were equal length.

Gibbs eyed his own tie; it was straight. He shot his cuffs so his shirt cuff showed exactly a half inch.

"DiNozzo, Gibbs, ... scut ..." The bailiff stopped, baffled.

Gibbs pronounced it for him. "She'll be along in five. She sent me a text."

"Thank you. I hope she makes it on time ... Judge Hammond is a real stickler about being on time. This way." He led the way into a side room where they would wait until called.

"Thank you. Coffee?" Gibbs glanced around for a pot.

Officer Creedy pointed. "There."

Gibbs got a cup but set it down after one sip.

Tony sent him a commiserating look. "Dishwater?"

"Piss. It's burnt." Gibbs made a face.

Tony sighed. "And how long does it have to be on the warmer before weak coffee burns?"

"Long damn time." Gibbs decided that even he couldn't drink that shit. He dumped it into the nearby sink and tossed the cup.

The door opened with a soft click, and they heard the bailiff say, "In here, ma'am."

Abby entered with a tray of cups, saying, "Thank you."

Tony actually blinked, while Gibbs rubbed his eyes. Abby looked nothing like her usual happy Goth self. Instead, her hair was done in a tight chignon with a small net over it. Her suit was obviously bespoke and fitted her beautifully; even her shoes were perfect. She smiled, put the tray down on the table, and turned.

"Well?"

Gibbs spoke for both men. "Christ on a mop-stick. Abby, you look like ... a lawyer. And that's a compliment."

"Thank you, kind sir. I intend to blind them with my brilliance."

Tony snickered, "You're so smart that you don't need to baffle them with bullshit. Very nice. And coffee."

Abby laughed. "Yes, coffee." She gave Tony and Gibbs theirs and they settled to drink coffee and wait.

.

The judge was obviously not pleased by the time Gibbs got off the stand. He hated the defense, Mr. Feder, on sight, so he wasn't being "cooperative," to quote the lawyer. He answered every question, in detail, and refused to allow the man to talk over him. He didn't shout him, down but his parade-ground voice effectively drowned the man out. The only time Gibbs let the man interrupt was when he had an objection.

This frazzled the man and left him floundering. He finally said, "No more questions."

The prosecution, Mr. Evans, refused re-direct examination until later, if needed.

Abby was the next witness called, and the bailiff called her name in a sonorous voice that echoed a bit. "Doctor Abigail Sciuto."

Abby stood up and nodded to him. "Here."

The bailiff stood to swear Abby in. He managed a very soft, "Nice suit." before he administered the oath.

Abby just dimpled at him then swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, etc. She settled in the witness box, unbuttoning her jacket and crossing her legs. The prosecution winced; he'd dealt with her before, as a defense, and she scared the shit out of him. She was brilliant, took and gave no shit, and she'd insist on respect.

He decided on the path of least resistance in examination. "Dr. Scuito, would you please explain your findings?"

Abby smiled gently. "I'll be glad to, Mr. Porter." She turned to the jury and addressed them directly. "If you get stuck, don't understand something, or ... whatever, just hold up your hand."

The judge started to say something, but his bailiff caught his eye and shook his head. He refrained from comment, waiting to see how this worked out. He wasn't like some judges; he did insist on order in his courtroom, but he was inclined to let the scientist types have some leeway.

So Abby gave her evidence in a clear, concise, and understandable report, then waited for questions. The Prosecution didn't have any, but a couple of jurors did. Judge Hammond allowed the questions, so Abby answered them carefully. She didn't want to confuse the jurors; the defense was doing enough of that.

It was now the defense's turn to cross-examine her. "Well, Miss Scut-ow..."

Abby sighed, "It's Doctor Shew-toe."

The defense, Mr. Feder, raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Doctor Shew-Toe. Not Miss, not Scut-ow. Get it right." She scowled at him. "It's really disrespectful to get a name wrong. And I'm sure you were instructed on how to pronounce my name. If you have actual questions, could we get to it?"

The entire courtroom laughed. Judge Hammond banged his gavel and demanded order. He eyed Mr. Feder for a moment, then said, "You know how to pronounce her name and are aware she's a doctor. Get on with it and stop this posturing."

Mr. Feder sighed; he hated it when his initial questioning was blocked. He liked to use a few stratagems to throw the examinees off, especially forensic scientists. "So ... Doctor Sciuto... what are your specific qualifications to perform these tests, and how accurate are they ... really?"

Abby eyed the judge for a moment, then said, "I believe we covered that in initial questioning." She dimpled at him and added, "Why don't we have the court reporter check back through the proceedings and see?"

Mr. Feder objected, Judge Hammond overruled it, and the Court Reporter checked back. "Yes, Your Honor; Dr. Scuito's degrees were read into the proceedings. Would you like me to review them?"

Judge Hammond thought for a moment, then asked the jury, "Does anyone need a review? Show of hands, please." No one held up a hand, so he instructed, "Proceed with your questioning. And no more showboating."

This got a grudging, "Of course, Your Honor." from Mr. Feder. He then turned to Abby and began to try to refute her science. This did not go down as he had intended, as Abby answered all his questions in careful detail. This did not endear him to the jury, as most of the testimony went over their heads. Abby was constantly apologizing to them with a dismayed expression.

By the time Feder decided that he'd had enough, the jury was ready to lynch him in effigy, or reality.

He turned the questioning back to Mr. Porter, who declined.

Abby smiled around, stood up, buttoned her jacket and left the stand.

Tony and Gibbs met her at the door.

"How'd it go?"

Abby smirked at Tony. "AJ, you were right. Nothing like a good suit to command respect."

.

Before you ask. The Prosecution won.

I saved this comment from my beta because it's exactly what I was imagining.

(Umbridge voice on Rita Skeeter…OMG, where's the brain bleach?! ;D – Jake)

Thanks to all the kind people who have left comments and kudos.

I don't tend to answer 'great story' type comments, as I'd rather use the time writing. So, again, thank you so much.


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